


Sometimes a Fantasy

by sherlockruiningmylife



Series: The Ineffable Playlist [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunkenness, Fantasy, Happy Ending, Imagination, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Music, Other, Song Lyrics, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockruiningmylife/pseuds/sherlockruiningmylife
Summary: This is the first of an 'Ineffable Playlist'. They will likely all be stand-alone.Crowley returns home from the bookshop missing the angel. Based on 'Sometimes a Fantasy' by Billy Joel.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Ineffable Playlist [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165421
Kudos: 4





	Sometimes a Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that this is not what was supposed to be read between the lines of the song. The song is definitely about something a bit more, um, sexual in nature. But I just made it sad and angsty. The others in the series *probably* won't be like this. But it does have a happy ending!

Crowley returned to his flat after a long night at the bookshop. He and Aziraphale had drunk several bottles of some of the finest wines ever made. Crowley figured it would be a crying shame to waste it, so decided not to sober up. This meant that he drunkenly staggered his way home.

In the lobby of his flat’s building, the woman working the night shift asked if he would like a hand. She knew Crowley well and figured he must be in his late forties by now. She had some amount of concern seeing him so drunk and thought briefly about how bad it must be for his liver and heart.

He waved her offer away and stumbled into the elevator. He nearly fell asleep on the way up but managed to crawl out when the doors opened at his floor. There was no chance of getting the door unlocked in this state so, he flicked his wrist and entered the flat.

Crowley was met with his home, tall grey walls surrounded him. His plants were all asleep as he had drilled it into their, uh, veins? that to grow well, they needed to rest.

The demon was hit with a sudden sadness and longing as he looked about his flat from the doorway. It wasn’t the kind of place that could ever be described as homely. It was elegant and chic, but not warm or inviting. The book shop was comfortable. The angel was inviting. The angel was warm.

_I didn’t want to do it but I got too lonely_

Crowley slumped into his chair that was more like a throne. It normally made him feel powerful. Now he felt lonely. He picked up the phone on his desk.

_I had to call you up in the middle of the night_

He dialed the bookshop’s number. Waited until he heard the first ring. Then quickly hung-up.

What would he say to Aziraphale if he had picked up? Something along the lines of, yeah angel, I was just missing you. Or maybe, um I left something at your place, mind if I just come back and get it.

_I know it’s awful hard to try to make love long distance_

Crowley imagined that, going back to the bookshop. Aziraphale would insist that he stay the rest of the night, it was approaching 2 a.m. after all.

He thought about calling the bookshop again. Maybe the angel would invite him back right now. Maybe he was just as lonely as the demon.

_But I really needed stimulation_

Just the angel’s voice, that was all he needed. He just needed to hear the cheery “Hello my dear” from the only being he really cared about. He thought about the angel, his angel.

_Though it was only my imagination_

Crowley imagined himself back in the bookshop. He was curled up as a gigantic black and red snake. He was sound asleep on Aziraphale’s lap without a care in the world. He was home.

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_But sometimes a fantasy_

_Is all you need_

Crowley was hit with a sudden swell of emotion. He rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek. It was damp. Why was it damp?

_When am I gonna take control, get a hold of my emotions_

Was he crying? Demons didn’t cry. Why was he crying? Crowley continued to shed silent tears as he thought about the angel’s perfect presence.

_Why does it only seem to hit me in the middle of the night_

He was drunk, that was all. Should have sobered up before he left the bookshop, Crowley thought to himself. Should sober up now, but the bottles were just so far away. And the angel would notice that. Best not then.

_You told me there’s a number I can always dial for assistance_

Crowley thought about who he might talk to. He could go back downstairs, the woman there seemed to want to help. What was her name, Sarah, Felicity, Margaret? No recollection of a name, he wondered if he ever knew.

_I don’t want to deal with outside action_

Maybe he could call one of those 24/7 hotlines, ramble random lies to the poor operator, then hang up. He would certainly never tell the truth. But making up a story might be fun. Just went through a tough break-up. Missing them terribly, needed someone to talk to.

No, Crowley thought, he was not one to tell anyone anything. Plus, it was best not to get any outsiders involved.

_Only you can give me satisfaction_

Aziraphale would fuss over him. He would make him feel safe. He would make him a space to sleep. He would make him feel loved.

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_But sometimes a fantasy_

_Is all you need_

Crowley imagined this again. This time he was not on the angel’s lap. Instead, he was sleeping on a pile of books near the fire. Aziraphale sat by and read from an ancient book, older than any human alive.

_Sure it would be better if I had you here to hold me_

Crowley slithered over to the singular bookshelf he had in the vast flat. It was empty but it smelled woody and like it had held books for centuries. He curled up on top of it.

_Be better baby but believe me it’s the next best thing_

He imagined that as he slept by the fire, Aziraphale leaned down and stroked his scales. He whispered to the sleeping snake. The angel confessed all of his emotions thinking the snake to be deaf to them. But they worked their way into his dreams.

_I’m sure there’s many times you’ve wanted me to hear your secrets_

Crowley was asleep now, but he dreamed of a life outside of the confines of Heaven and Hell. He dreamed of life on Earth, with an angel. Where they could live freely as the humans did.

_Don’t be afraid to say the words that move me_

They spent their days traveling the globe. Crowley held Aziraphale close as they wandered through art galleries. He sat inches from the angel as they dined at fancy restaurants.

_Anytime you want to tell them to me_

Crowley was free in his dream. Aziraphale was too. They whispered to each other at all hours of the day. They giggled over silly miracles. They got ice cream in the park. They never looked back.

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_But sometimes a fantasy_

_Is all you need_

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

_It’s just a fantasy_

_It’s not the real thing_

Crowley woke suddenly. It was bright out and he had an awful headache. He got off the shelf and put himself right. Shoving on a pair of sunglasses, he stood up. There was another polite knock at the door. Who knocked at this hour? It was, what, 7 a.m.?

A glance at the clock told the demon, it was, in fact, nearly lunchtime.

He shuffled to the door and violently swung it open. He was prepared to put the fear of Crowley into whoever was on the other side.

Thankfully, he had saved his tirade for after he saw the interloper.

It was not an intruder, instead, it was _the_ angel. The one and only angel that mattered. The angel of Crowley’s dream.

“Good morning my dear. I do hope I didn’t wake you. You left this at the bookshop and I just wanted to return it.”

Aziraphale was holding the thin necktie that Crowley often wore. He didn’t remember taking it off and wasn’t sure why he would have. Crowley reached a hand up and gently took it back from the angel.

“Uh, thanks angel.”

“No worries dear, are we still on for dinner this evening?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, see you then. Toodaloo.” Aziraphale made a small flicking motion with his hand and turned to leave.

“Uh, wait,” Aziraphale turned to look back at Crowley, “did you have breakfast yet? There’s a bakery that makes fantastic Brioches just around the corner.”

Aziraphale beamed, “Oh that sounds lovely!”

And so, Crowley thought, he had all the more he needed here. It wasn’t just a fantasy.


End file.
